Mirror Image
by Sunset
Summary: A husband hires a childhood friend to kill his wife. Final chapter posted.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
"I was going to kill her myself, but on TV, the husband is always the first suspect, so I figured it'd be best if I had a really good alibi."   
  
"That's good thinking'"  
  
The two men were sitting in a coffee shop booth, the remains of their dinners in front of them. The more distinguished of the two, the husband of the soon to be dead woman, Charles Parker, took a sip of coffee and set the cup back down on the table. The other man, the man Charles was hiring to kill his wife, lit a cigarette and pulled the ashtray in front of him.  
  
"Here's her picture. And the rest," Charles slid a photograph and a thick envelope across the table, "the rest is there as well."  
  
The other man, Neil Jamison, glanced at the photo then cupped his hand over the two items, slipping them into his jacket pocket. "When?"   
  
"I'm flying to Boston in the morning. Anytime between 8 and 10. I'll be on the plane. And I'm going to make sure people remember me." He grinned. From the look in his eyes, Neil didn't understand what he'd meant. "I'm going to be an ass." Charles explained further, and could see the understanding dawn on Neil's face.   
  
"Oh. Ok." Neil gave a hollow chuckle, one that reminded Charles of a foolish cartoon character. "Between 8 and 10 tomorrow morning." Neil repeated, as if reminding himself.  
  
"Yes. Now, Cynthia goes to the gym every morning at 7; she takes some class they have. She'll be leaving around 8:15, 8:20. Solid Bodies, on 83rd, do you know it?"   
  
"Yeah, I can find it." Neil answered. "Solid Bodies at 8:15" he murmured, again like he was reminding himself. Looking Charles in the eye, he nodded. "Got it." He taped his fist on the tabletop. "She'll be dead by 9 tomorrow."  
  
*****  
  
  
Facing the mirror, Charles' hands went through the motion of tying his tie, but his eyes followed his wife's reflection around the bedroom behind him. When she sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to tie her sneakers, he asked: "Going to the gym Darling?"  
  
"Yep. What time are you landing again?" Cynthia stood and walked over to her husband. Slipping her arms around his waist, she ran a hand up and down his chest. "And do you really have to go?"  
  
He took her hand in his; they looked at each other's reflection. "Yes. I really have to go."  
  
She sighed deeply, rested her check against his shoulder for a moment then pulled away from him. "Ok. Promise me you'll be thinking about me while you're gone?"  
  
"Yes Darling. I promise," he said as he smiled at himself in the mirror.  
  
  
*****  
  
Neil Jamison ran up the four flights of stairs to his apartment door. Breathing hard, he unlocked the door and flung himself into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Down the hall a baby started to cry at the noise. Neil paced the small living room, raking his hands through his hair. Back and forth he walked, raking, then pulling at his hair. "Oh God. Oh God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know.... I didn't know there'd be so much...so much blood." He looked down at himself, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he didn't see any of it on him. He breathed deeply again, calming himself down. "Ok. Ok. Ok." He muttered to himself, plodding into the kitchen he pulled the fridge door open and grabbed a beer. He popped the top and chugged half of it down. Taking another deep breath, he felt better. He leaned against the counter top and drank the rest of the beer in two long swallows. He rested there another moment, trying to figure out what to do now. Not coming up with any ideas, he went back into the living room, turned on the TV and lay down on the couch. In a moment, he was asleep. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
"And in other Noon News, Imperial executive, Constance Wells was killed this morning outside Solid Bodies gym on 83rd. Ted Smart is on the scene. Ted?"  
  
Neil woke up when he heard the anchorwoman say Solid Bodies. But she said the wrong name. He hadn't killed Constance Wells, he had killed Cynthia Parker. What the hell was going on? He flung his feet to the floor, sitting up to watch the reporter on location.  
  
"Thanks Susan. This morning at about 8:30, Imperial executive Constance Wells was drug from outside the front of her gym, Solid Bodies, into this alley." The reporter turned slightly and pointed across the street where Neil could see yellow police tape, and a large crowd that had gathered. "Where her assailant slammed her head against the brick wall, leaving her to bleed to death. Constance's purse was undisturbed, and it does not appear that she was sexually assaulted. Police are looking for a motive."  
  
The television screen cut back to the anchorwoman, "Ted, has the victims family been reached for comment?"  
  
The field reporter reappeared on the screen. His hand cupped his ear, listening to the question. "Susan, we don't know a lot right now. According to employees of the health club, Constance's sister, Cynthia, was in the gym when the body was found."  
  
Sister? Her sister? Neil jumped off the couch, his mind reeling. He still couldn't understand. He'd taken the picture with him, she'd been the right woman, he was sure of that. Maybe she'd taken her sisters purse, maybe they'd id'd the wrong woman. When he turned his attention back to the television, a black and white photo was on the screen. It was Cynthia's picture. How could they have gotten that wrong? He started to pace the floor again, pulling at his hair.  
  
"Susan, we do have some footage shot just as we arrived on the scene." The alley appeared again on the screen, but there was no police tape up yet. A smaller crowd was being held back by uniformed policemen. Two cops, Neil guessed they were cops, were escorting a woman out of the alley. The small blonde female cop had her arm around the woman, supporting her. The other cop, a man, walked a step behind them, his hand on the woman's shoulder, almost guiding her. The woman in between them looked like Cynthia. Neil couldn't understand. How could two women look so much alike, even if they were sisters?  
  
" . . . being led back to the gym by Detectives Robert Goren and Alexandra Eames, of the NYPD Major Case Squad. Cynthia Parker, sister of the deceased, is the wife of Charles Parker, president of the Ronan Company."  
  
"Ted, Mrs. Parker bears a striking resemblance to Constance." The anchorwoman noted. Neil stopped pacing and kneeled down in front of the TV set.  
  
"Yes, Susan. Cynthia Parker and Constance Wells were twins. We'll have more for the five o'clock report. Back to you Susan."  
  
"Twins?" Neil began to pace again, but instead of pulling on his hair, he butted his fist against his forehead. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. What do I do now?" He thought of calling Charles, "No. No. It's better if Charles doesn't know I messed up." Neil said to himself. "If I do Cynthia, then Charles will never know I did it wrong the first time." Still pacing, he thought long and hard about to do it.  
  
*****  
  
Cynthia Parker sat on a couch in the gym manager's office. A white cotton towel pressed against her eyes, her entire body heaving with each sob. Alex Eames sat next to her, one hand on Cynthia's back, offering a little comfort. Bobby pulled up a chair facing Cynthia, their knees almost touching.  
  
"Mrs. Parker, we're very sorry for your loss, but we do need to ask you a few questions, if you're up to it." The sooner she talked to them, the sooner they could get started. "Please." He pressed his hand against her arm. The sobs died down, she took a few deep breaths, and raised her head from the towel.  
  
"Ok." She said looking from Goren to Eames. Her voice was small, tired.  
  
"Was your sister married?" Alex asked.  
  
"No. She was single."  
  
"Boyfriend?"  
  
"No. She broke up with the last one a few weeks ago. She'd been spending all her time at work or at home." She very nearly started to cry again, but was able to breathe away the tears.  
  
"How was that, the break up?" Alex asked, and could tell from Cynthia's face she didn't understand the question, so Alex elaborated. "Did her boyfriend take the break up well? Could he have maybe wanted to harm her?"  
  
"Oh." Cynthia paused, thinking. "No. The break up was mutual; they just didn't have anything in common anymore. No." She shook her head, "I don't think Frank would want to hurt Connie."  
  
"Frank?" Alex asked, her pen poised above her notebook.  
  
"Yes. Frank Chambers."  
  
"Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?" Bobby asked.  
  
Cynthia shook her head again, "No. There's no one, everyone liked her." Bobby and Alex exchanged a look that said 'somebody didn't'.  
  
"Did she talk much about the office? Was there someone there who might benefit from her not being there?" Not using the word 'dead' with family members had become second nature to Eames.  
  
"She didn't talk much about the office. I wouldn't really know. You could try her secretary, Melissa. Or her boss may be able to help." The tears began again, slipping off her cheeks as she continued to speak. "Connie only came here this morning to show me what she'd bought our cousin for his birthday next week. She said she had to come today, she was putting it in the mail this afternoon." The tears started to come harder. "It had to be this morning." her sentence trailed off, taken over by sobs.  
  
*****  
  
"So she was followed to the gym?" Capitan Deakins asked from behind his desk.  
  
Bobby waved a hand out to his side and shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
"It doesn't feel random." Alex said. "She wasn't sexually assaulted, her purse had over a hundred bucks in it, and it wasn't touched. If feels like she was singled out."  
  
"We're checking on her life insurance, and we're on our way to her office to talk to her secretary and boss." Bobby told Deakins, as he stood and headed for the door.  
  
"You're going to check with the ex-boyfriend, too." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Yeah" Alex said on her way out the door.  
  
*****  
  
Neil had gone back to they gym. He waited inside a coffee shop across the street. Sitting with his back to the window, he was able to watch the outside of the gym in the mirror in front of him. Half an hour and two cups of coffee later, he watched as Cynthia left the gym, flanked by the two cops he'd seen her with on tv. The three of them stopped on the sidewalk for a moment, the two cops looked concerned, the male cop waved an arm, pointing at a black SUV, but Cynthia kept shaking her head. Neil stood up hastily, tossing some money down on the counter. He stood by the door, and when the cops walked away from Cynthia, Neil left the coffee shop at a walking-jog, dodged a couple of cabs as he crossed the street. His path led him right in front of the SUV as it pulled out into traffic, forcing Alex to slam on the brakes. She hit the horn, one short blast, and Neil, who had stopped right in front of the SUV, turned, looked Alex straight in the eye, and raised his middle finger at her.  
  
*****  
  
Neil had to fight back his natural stride. Cynthia wasn't walking very fast, and if he walked at his normal pace, he'd pass her. He kept himself about 20 steps behind her. Close enough to see her, far enough back where she wouldn't get worried if she happened to notice. He had no idea what he was going to do. All he knew was that he didn't want her to get home; he had to keep an eye out for opportunity.  
  
That opportunity came about three blocks from her apartment. A thunderstorm had opened up, forcing people to run for the nearest indoors. Suddenly Neil found himself alone with Cynthia on the street. Reassuming his natural pace, he caught up with her in a moment. He grabbed her from behind, by the upper arms, just below the shoulders. Using her surprise, and his momentum, he steered her into the next doorway. 


	3. Chapter Three

Charles Parker replaced the small smile on his face with a look of concern as he snapped his cell phone shut and turned back toward his business acquaintance.   
  
"No answer?" The other man said.  
  
"No. And it's not like Cynthia to not be at home." Charles furrowed his brow.  
  
"She's probably out spending your money, or maybe she went to a movie."   
  
"Yeah. I'm sure that's it." Charles answered him. And smiled.  
  
*****  
  
"Eames." Alex said into the phone. "Damn it. Where?" She grabbed a pen and wrote down what the caller was telling her. Glancing up at Bobby, she spoke into the phone "We'll be right there."   
  
"What?" Bobby asked as Alex replaced the handset.  
  
"Cynthia Parker was just found dead in a door way three blocks from her apartment." She let that sink in for a moment, and then told him the rest. "Her head was smashed up against a wall, just like her sister." She waved a finger at the phone, "Uniform on the scene says they've got a witness who saw it go down at about 1:15, 1:20."   
  
"Just after we left her." Bobby said.  
  
"Yep."  
  
*****   
  
"Where's the witness?" Alex asked the first uniform she saw after they arrived at the scene. He shrugged and kept walking. 'Wonderful', Alex thought, grabbing another officer by the arm, hoping he would know more.  
  
Bobby was already in the doorway, crouched over the Cynthia's body. She was lying on her back, arms and legs askew. Her face was turned to her left, as if she was looking at the wall she had been slammed into. With his gloved hand, Bobby gently cupped her chin, and turned her head, so he could inspect the wound.   
  
Alex finished talking to the witness, and then turned her attention to the ME. It took only a few minutes for her to tell Alex what she knew, and followed up by saying she'd know more after the examination.  
  
Alex thanked the doctor and walked over to the doorway, where Bobby was still crouched over Cynthia's body. She gave him a few moments, knowing that when she did speak, he would hear her, but probably wouldn't appear to be listening. "The witness watched the whole thing from her apartment window across the street." Alex turned and pointed. "Saw a man walk up from behind her, grab her and push her into here. Then, maybe twenty seconds later, he left, running. She didn't think anything had happened, since he wasn't here to long, but then she saw Cynthia on the ground, crawling out of the doorway. By the time she got down the stairs and over here, she was dead."   
  
Bobby stood up and joined Alex on the sidewalk, signaling the coroner's office he was done and they could take Cynthia now. "Has anyone called her husband?"   
  
"Uniform said they sent someone down there, since it's so close. No one answered. Neighbor saw Mr. Parker leaving this morning with a suitcase."  
  
Cynthia's body was lifted onto a stretcher and hoisted into the coroner's van. Bobby took a few steps on the sidewalk, and turned back, so he was again facing Alex. "He grabs her here," he raised his arms, half way, pantomiming. "He forces her into the doorway," taking a few steps, he walked into the doorway. "He slams her head into the wall, and takes off." Bobby turned his body so his back was against the wall, becoming Cynthia in his re-enactment. "She's losing blood, barely conscious, falls to her knees," he pointed to the ground where Cynthia's body had just lain. "Tries to crawl out for help, loses consciousness, and dies."   
  
Alex nodded in agreement as Bobby rejoined her on the sidewalk. "Same as her sister." Alex said.  
  
"Identical twins, both killed in the same way, within a few hours of each other."   
  
"Someone's going after the family?" Alex suggested.  
  
Bobby tilted his head, "Either that, or Constance was a mistake, and Cynthia was the intended target." 


	4. Chapter Four

The second time around wasn't so bad, Neil thought to himself as he dropped down on to his couch. And now Charles won't have to know he screwed up, that he got the wrong girl the first time. Cynthia was dead, and that's all Charles would care about. Ever since they were kids, Charles would always get mad whenever Neil made a mistake, and that was pretty often. Once, when Neil was sixteen, his father had kicked him out of the house. Charles' parents had had pity, and taken him in. One afternoon, Charles arrived home from school to find the fire department trucks blocking his street, right in front of his house. Neil had decided to skip school and passed the time by setting fire to blades of grass. He'd set a blade aflame, watch it for a moment, then stomp it out, then set another. The fire department had been called when Neil, just after touching match to grass, was distracted by a hawk over his head. It had cawed to him from a nearby tree, and then took flight, circling twice over his head before flying away. By the time Neil's remembered the fire and looked back down, the blaze had become too large for him to stomp. Neighbors later told Charles' parents that when he'd seen the fire, Neil had run around in little circles, pulling at his hair. Charles had gotten so mad at him that day, Neil remembered now, twenty years later. So mad that he couldn't even speak. Through a clenched jaw, Charles slowly explained that he wasn't upset about the fire, but angry that Neil had been so stupid. Charles had never hit Neil, but he came the closest that day. All because Neil did something stupid. Now, Neil just hoped Charles never found out what happened today.  
  
*****  
  
"In hind sight, it makes perfect sense. Constance wasn't a member of that gym, she was only there just this one this morning. She and Cynthia looked just alike, the killer could have easily mistaken one for the other." Bobby said in the truck on the way back to One PP.  
  
"The report was on the noon news," Alex said, glancing over as she drove. "Our boy thinks he got the right one until he sees the news. . ."  
  
"So he goes back and kills Cynthia." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't we see this before?"  
  
"Because we were both assuming she'd been followed to the gym." Alex stepped hard on the breaks to avoid rear-ending a cab that had cut her off.   
  
*****  
  
"Something's wrong." Charles turned in his first class seat to face the person next to him. "My wife isn't answering the phone." He plastered a worried look on his face. "I think something may have happened."  
  
"She's in New York?" The other man asked.  
  
"Yes, Manhattan."   
  
"Well," the stranger looked at his watch "it's a little after seven. She could be still asleep. I wouldn't worry to much."  
  
"Yes, maybe you're right." Charles said, relaxing a little and slipping the phone into his jacket pocket, just as the stewardess' voice came over the speaker with preflight instructions.  
  
*****  
  
A patrol car had been told to check on the Parker residence every hour, and to call Major Case when Mr. Parker was home. It was after 8 that evening when the call came in. Bobby and Alex had been almost out the door, headed for home when Alex's cell phone rang. When they'd arrived at the Parker home, the patrol officer told them he hadn't knocked, he'd just seen the lights on and made the call. Bobby and Alex glanced at each other, knowing they would have to be the one's to tell him about his wife and her sister.  
  
*****  
  
  
"I . . . I don't understand. What, . . .what do you mean . . .dead?" Charles wore the confused and devastated face he'd practiced in front of the mirror. He reached his hand out, feeling for the arm of the couch, and sat down heavily. This too, he'd rehearsed. Alex sat in the armchair next to the couch.   
  
"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Parker." She began, "Can you think of anyone who would want to do this?"  
  
"No. No. Everyone loved Cynthia." Charles widened his eyes, trying to look confused. And innocent.  
Bobby stood behind the couch, trying to get a read on the man sitting down. Something rang phony, rehearsed.   
  
"Um. . ." Bobby began, then stopped, searching for the right words. ". . .We have more, bad news. You're sister-in-law?" He walked around the corner of the couch, and stood near the end table closest to Parker. "She was killed, too. A few hours before your wife was. In the same manor, in front of your wife's gym." Bobby stopped speaking, and watched. The expression that felt counterfeit to him was suddenly replaced with one that seemed genuine, but more confused than horrified.  
  
"Connie?" Charles looked from one detective to the other, somehow waiting for the punch line. "Connie?" He stood, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, making his way to the back of the couch were Bobby had just stood. "No. . . no. . ." Bobby and Alex watched him for a moment, and then simultaneously glanced at each other. Both were thinking that Charles was more shocked by his sister-in-law's death than he was his wife's. Charles stopped pacing suddenly, pointing a finger toward Bobby he said, "Connie doesn't go to the gym, it had to be someone else." He had an almost triumphant look on his face.  
  
"That's," Bobby turned, facing Charles directly. " . . . ah, that's what your wife told us, when we spoke to her about her sisters murder. She said Connie'd gone to the gym this morning to see Cynthia."   
  
Charles' shoulder collapsed, giving in to the realization both women really were dead. He'd loved Connie, realizing to late that he'd chosen the wrong sister. He knew Connie would never see him in a romantic light as long as he was married to her sister, and even if they divorced, she would have had nothing to do with him. Cynthia's death was the only way. He'd planed to seduce as they mourned together. Now she was gone. His body shook, as an earthquake of tears rolled their way out of him.   
  
Alex stood from her sitting position in the chair. Both detectives knew the interview was over. Alex turned, and seeing a uniformed officer standing in the doorway, she motioned with her hand for him to go help Charles. Bobby watched the crying man for a beat longer then Alex did, and then he also turned walking across the living room, joining Alex in the doorway. They watched as the patrolman took Parker by the shoulders, leading him to the couch. Bobby reached behind Alex, twisting the doorknob, and holding the door open for her to pass through first. Outside they stopped on the steps. Both of their eyes searching the street, the sky, neither spoke for a moment. Alex broke the silence by saying: "I think we should call Hollywood, he needs to be in the movies." She moved down two steps, headed for their SUV.   
  
"Yep." Bobby answered, following her. 


	5. Chapter Five

One o'clock in the morning, the patrolman had been gone for hours. Charles picked up the phone, dialing. Neil answered sleepily on the third ring. "Hey." Charles said.  
  
"Hey, Charles!" Joy filled Neil's voice. "Hey! You're back."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm back. Why don't you come over for a few minutes?"  
  
*****  
  
Neil never saw it coming. Charles had opened the door, smiling, standing aside, letting Neil walk through. In the same moment the door shut, Neil felt himself being lifted and slammed into the wall. Charles had a few inches on him, and was a lot stronger, he held Neil by the throat. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" Their faces less than an inch apart.   
  
Neil's face crumpled and he began to cry. "I'm sorry Charles, I'm sorry." His body sagged against the wall, Charles released his grip, and Neil sank to the floor. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Charles stood over him, resisting the urge to kick the life out of Neil. After a moment, Charles sank down to the floor, next to Neil. He pulled his knees almost up to his chest, laying his arms on them, so his hands dangled. "Tell me what happened," he said quietly.  
  
Neil sniffled twice and wiped his nose with his arm, his fear ebbing. "I did just like you said. I went to the gym, and there she was. . .at least I thought it was her. She looked just like the picture."  
  
Charles nodded his head slowly. "Yeah. They were twins. I didn't tell you about her, she wasn't supposed to be there." Charles felt his throat tightening, threatening tears. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "She wasn't supposed to be there."  
  
"So. . ." Neil continued, "when I saw the news . . .I knew it wasn't the right one."  
  
"But why did you go ahead and kill Cynthia?" Charles asked, sitting up a little.  
  
Neil's voice came out tiny, like a small child looking up at an angry father. "So you wouldn't be mad at me."  
  
Charles slumped back against the wall, sighing. It was a sigh of regret, of hindsight. A sigh that said 'I should have known better.'  
  
*****  
  
From across the street, they watched Neil leave Charles' house. Bobby glanced at his watch. "It's three. He was in there for an hour and a half." Both detectives watched Neil walking until he turned the corner and out of sight. Alex turned away from the driver's side window and faced Bobby. His eyes seemed to be looking in the direction of the corner, but his focus was somewhere else.   
  
"Lovers?" Alex asked.  
  
Bobby took another moment, working something out in his mind. "No." He answered, and then paused, his mind still turning. "No, I don't think so. His reaction to Connie's murder made me think he was in love with her." He paused. "Let's go home, get some sleep." He sat back in the passenger seat, and covered his eyes with his right hand, his elbow propped against the door. Alex started the engine and with one final glance to the Parker house, headed toward Bobby's apartment, to drop him off.  
  
*****  
  
"So the husband's involved?" Captain Deakins asked when Alex finished telling him about the previous nights "stake out".   
  
"We think so." Alex answered, "His reaction to his wife's death seemed phony, maybe even rehearsed, but the reaction to the sisters murder was real enough."  
"So. . . Deakins paused, working the scenario out in his head. "the husband hires someone to kill his wife. 'Here's her picture, she'll be at the gym' but doesn't tell the killer she has a twin, because the twin never goes to the gym. So the killer goes to the gym, see's the sister, does her . . .then, what? Learns on the news he's got the wrong girl?"  
  
Bobby shrugged. "Maybe." It was the first time he'd spoken since he'd said 'Good morning' to Alex.  
  
"So he kills the wife, thinking that we wouldn't notice twin sisters being killed on the same day in the same manner?"  
  
Bobby shrugged again. "There might be two killers." Suggested Alex. Deakins looked over at Bobby, who was sitting near the office window.   
  
"Is that what you think?"  
  
Bobby looked up, his surroundings coming in to focus, as if he'd been to lost in deep thought to realize where he was. He considered the question for a moment. "No." Then more convincingly, "No it's the same guy."  
  
The office was quiet for a moment, as they all pondered how dim-witted the killer must be. Deakins broke the silence. "Pull Parker's phone lugs, find out who that was at his house last night." 


	6. Chapter Six

Bobby had already called the airline, and confirmed Charles had been on the plane. There had actually been complaint reports filed against him by other passengers and even the flight crew. Parker had made quiet an impression. He was on hold with the hotel when Alex walked up, holding a computer print out to him. "Parkers lugs." She told him as he took it from her. She walked around to her own side of the desk, sitting down she began to type on her keyboard.   
  
Bobby moved the receiver slightly away from his mouth, his eyes immediately going to the end of the list, the call made at one in the morning. "You checking for priors on this Neil Jamison?"  
  
"Yeah. And I've got a hit." She read the screen for a moment, and then related to him what it said. "He's been in trouble since his early teens." Alex's eyebrows rose as she kept reading. "All minor stuff, but a lot of it. Possession. Bar fights. Purse snatching, couple of muggings."   
  
Bobby held up a hand, stopping her, and raised the receiver back up to his mouth. "Yes, I'm still here." Pausing, "He was. You're positive? Yes. Thank you." He hung up, and before he'd even taken his hand off the receiver, the phone rang. "Major Case, Detective Goren." He paused listening. "Yes, Mr. Parker . . ." he glanced at Alex who had turned her attention to him when she heard Parkers name. "Yes. We were about to call to arrange an interview." He listened. "That'd be fine. We'll see you then." Hanging up, he met Alex's eyes. "One o'clock." He answered her unasked question.   
  
Alex turned back to her computer screen. Paging down, the list of Neil's arrests gave way to his mug shot. She furrowed her brow, concentrating. "What?" Bobby asked, seeing her expression.  
  
She glanced over at him, then back at the pc. "Come look at this." He did. Standing behind her, he leaned down over her shoulder, studying the screen.   
  
"Neil Jamison?"   
  
"Yeah. Does he look familiar to you?" She glanced over her shoulder to look at him. Bobby scrutinized the photo for another moment.   
  
"Yeah. But I don't know where from. Scroll back up, let's look over his arrest record."  
  
Alex scrolled up, and they read Neil's history, from his most recent arrest back. They'd come to his mid teenage years when Alex stopped scrolling. "What do you see?" Bobby asked.   
  
"Here" she said pointing with the mouse. She doubled clicked and the arrest report file came up. She read aloud: "Age 16, arrested for arson at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Parker." She read further down the report. "Here." She pointed with her finger to the screen, and began to read again. "Neil had been staying with the Parkers since their son Charles brought him home from school, after his father kicked him out." Again, she glanced over her shoulder to read Bobby's expression.   
  
"So they've known each other since high school . . ." He straightened himself, and moved so he stood next to the pc, facing Alex. "You want to get rid of your wife, who better to ask than a childhood friend?" He stopped, thinking. "Let's go talk to the people at Connie's office. If Parker was in love with her, she might have known."  
  
"And she may have told somebody." Alex finished for him.  
  
*****  
  
At the corporate offices of Imperial, where Connie had worked for the last five years, Bobby and Alex waited in the lobby only a few minutes until Connie's assistant came to lead them to what had been her office.   
  
"We're all so shocked. If there is anything we can do to help . ." She let the sentence dangle.   
  
"Did, ah, did she mention anything unusual in the last few weeks? Any hostile letters, former boyfriends making sudden contact?" Bobby asked.   
  
The secretary thought for a moment, staring at the carpet. She shook her head after a moment, "No. I don't think so."  
  
"Any unwanted attention . . ." he paused, looking for the right words, his hands in the air as if he could pull the words from it, "or relationships taking a turn she didn't expect?"  
  
"No. The last man she was seeing, I think I remember her saying he moved to Baltimore a few months ago."  
  
Bobby nodded, "Ok, thanks. We'll uh . ." he glanced over at Alex, "we'll let you know if we have any other questions."  
  
The secretary turned to leave, going back to her desk. She stopped in the doorway, and turned back around, something occurring to her. "You know. . . I don't know why I even bring this up, but Connie did mention once, a while ago that her sisters husband was beginning to give her the creeps."  
  
Encouraged, Bobby took a few steps, closing the gap between them. "Did she mention why?"   
  
"Yes, she did. She told me she'd been over visiting one Saturday afternoon, she was standing at the kitchen sink when Charles came up behind her, and started kissing her neck. When she pushed him away, he claimed to have thought she was Cynthia. What made Connie upset was that while their faces looked the same, their hair and clothes were different. And how could a man not know his own wife from her sister?"  
  
Glad to have his suspicions confirmed, Bobby glimpsed over at Alex on the other side of the room, smiling. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Charles Parker checked himself in the bedroom mirror. The detectives should arrive in moments, and he wanted to make sure he looked like a grieving husband. He shook his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. He'd dressed in an old sweatshirt and pair of jeans, and hadn't shaved or brushed his teeth this morning. Before he'd learned of Connie's murder, he'd planned to use a cut up onion to give himself the appearance of having been crying. But since Connie was dead too, he didn't need to fake the look, he had been crying. The doorbell rang, and with one more quick glance, Charles headed down the stairs.  
  
*****  
  
"Can I get you something? Coffee?" Charles asked, gesturing with his arm for Alex and Bobby to have a seat.  
  
"No, thank you." Bobby said as he sat in the middle of the couch. Alex shook her head, sitting in the chair.   
  
"Alright. Well." Charles began; realizing the only place left for him to sit was on the end of the couch, between the two detectives. He sat, relaxing into the back cushions, crossed one leg over the other, leaving his hand draped over his knee.  
  
"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?" Alex asked.  
  
"No. No one. I've been trying to figure it out all night . . .I couldn't think of a thing." He looked from Alex to Bobby, waiting for the next question.  
  
"Was it possible she had friends you didn't know of?"   
  
"No. No, I don't think so. Cynthia was a homebody. She didn't really do much outside the house; the gym was about the only place she went. Unless she went with me."  
  
"That must have gotten . . . tiring." Bobby commented, "She couldn't have had much to talk about."   
  
"Well," Charles paused, he hadn't anticipated this question. "Yes, I suppose it was a bit tiring, to tell you the truth. But, she was my wife."  
  
Bobby gave him a small, sympathetic smile. Establishing a man-to-man rapport.  
  
"Well, what about her sister? Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?"   
  
Charles looked dumbfounded. "Do you think the murders are related?"  
  
Bobby's eyes opened in surprise. "Well, yes, we do. . . Two women who looked exactly alike, killed within hours of each other. . ." Bobby let the sentence hang in the air.  
  
Charles nodded, his eyes unfocused as if he was considering this for the first time. "Yes. Yes, I suppose your right about that."  
  
Bobby raised his eyebrows, a prompt for Charles to answer his question. It took Charles a moment to understand. "Oh. Um." He paused, considering. "I don't really know all that much, just what Cynthia told me Connie had told her...." He sat thinking. "No." He shook his head. "No, I don't think I ever heard of anything that might lead to this." Sitting up suddenly, as if an idea just occurred to him. "Do you think someone has a grudge against the family? I mean they were the only two left, both their parents have died."  
  
"We're looking into that possibility." Alex lied.  
  
The questions went on for another half hour. Alex handled most of the interview, Bobby sat back, observing. When Alex had received all the answers she wanted, she glanced at Bobby, questioningly. With an imperceptible shake of his head he told Alex he didn't have anything else. Standing, he held his hand out to Charles, "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch."   
  
Charles stood and walked them to the door. Alex stepped out first, stopping on the top step, and turning back to the door. Bobby stopped, one foot outside, one in, and turned back to Charles, holding up his hand. "Uh . . ." he glanced back to Alex. Looking back at Charles, he lowered his voice, as if part of a conspiracy. "Um, I curious. . .being married to a twin . . .did you ever mistake your sister-in-law for your wife?"  
  
Charles laughed as though the question were ridiculous. "No. Now what kind of husband would I be if I didn't know my own wife?"  
  
Bobby smiled his man-to-man smile again. "What kind indeed?"  
  
*****  
  
Neil watched them from down the block, on the other side of the street. He had just turned the corner when he saw Alex step out of Charles' doorway. Neil stopped in his tracks, mid stride, trying to figure out who they were. He finally decided they must be with the insurance company. Neil guessed to himself that's what people did when someone dies, they call the insurance company.  
  
  
Alex's seatbelt clicked as Bobby climbed in. She looked at him, as he fastened his own seatbelt, tossing his leather notebook up on the dash. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over, shaking his head at her unspoken question. Sighing, Alex started the engine.   
  
  
  
Neil hurried down the sidewalk, until he was straight across from Charles' house. Ignoring the detectives SUV, he crossed the street, right in front of them.  
  
  
  
Alex glanced behind her left shoulder, checking for oncoming traffic, pulling out from the curb. When she turned back toward the windshield, Neil was right in front of the hood, only inches away. Alex slammed on the brakes. Neil stopped momentarily, glancing up at her through the windshield, then jogged up onto the curb, and up to Charles' front door.  
  
  
Alex and Bobby watched Charles answer Neil's knock, Bobby's eyes narrowing as Charles looked at Neil, then cast a worried glance to the street, meeting Bobby's gaze. Charles tried to play it cool, holding up a hand toward the SUV, and then stepping back, letting Neil in. When the door closed behind them, Bobby turned to Alex.  
  
"It was Neil who we almost hit, just after we left Cynthia." Alex said, the memory coming back to her.   
  
Bobby nodded. "He was following her."  
  
"At least now we know where we recognize him from." 


	8. Chapter Eight

They waited outside Neil's apartment, having gotten his address from his parole officer. They didn't arrest him, just told him they needed him to come in for questioning. Neil really didn't understand why the insurance company would need to talk to him, but he climbed into the back seat of the SUV and happily chatted away during the ride.   
  
Alex pulled into their space at One Police Plaza and shut off the engine. Both detectives got out, and Bobby pulled open the back door, waiting for Neil to climb out.   
  
"I . . .I don't understand," Neil stammered, "what are we doing here?"  
  
"This is our office."   
  
"Why does the police station have an insurance office?"  
  
"Insurance?" Alex asked.  
  
"Neil," Bobby began, his voice quiet, as if explaining something to a child, "we're not with the insurance company, we're cops."  
  
"Cops?!" Bobby and Alex could feel Neil's panic rising.   
  
"We just want to talk to you." Alex said as Bobby reached a hand into the back seat, coaxing Neil to get out of the truck.   
  
  
  
  
Inside the interrogation room, Neil sat, first wringing his hands together, then raking his fingers through his hair. He stared at his reflection, talking quietly to himself. His lips moved, but his words were too quiet to be heard by Bobby, Alex and Deakins who were watching from the other side of the mirror as Neil's apprehension grew. It didn't take long before they knew he was close to his breaking point, and the time for questioning had arrived.  
  
"Don't I get a phone call?" Neil asked before Bobby had even shut the door behind him.  
  
"You're not under arrest." Alex told him, sitting on top of the table near him.  
  
"I'm not?"  
  
"Have you done something you should be arrested for?" Bobby asked.  
  
"Uh . . . .No."  
  
"Well, then why would you be under arrest?"  
  
"Then I can go home?" Neil asked, a whining tone in his voice.  
  
"Sure you can." Alex told him.   
  
Neil smiled at her, a smile of relief, and stood. "But first," Bobby said, reaching across the table, pushing Neil back down in his seat, "we want to ask you a few questions."  
  
Neil sat, heavily, ran his fingers through his hair, and began pulling at it.  
  
"You know Charles Parker?" Alex asked him.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why did you go to his house this afternoon?" Alex asked  
  
"And why were you there at one o'clock in the morning?" Bobby added, right on the heels of Alex's question.  
  
"I . . ."  
  
"You . . .you what?"  
  
"Yes, I know him."  
  
"You've known him since high school." Bobby said, it wasn't a question.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why were you there this afternoon?" Alex leaned in, closer.  
  
"Because we're friends, don't you go to your friends houses sometimes?"  
  
"Not at one in the morning, I don't." Bobby said, and stood up, walking around the table, hovering behind Neil's chair. "Why did you go over there in the middle of the night?"  
  
"He called, and asked me to come over."  
  
"I'll bet he was angry that you killed the wrong woman, wasn't he?" Alex asked.  
  
"Yeah. . .I mean, no, I didn't kill anyone, I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Bobby bent down, his mouth at Neil's ear. "He was mad because you accidentally killed Connie, wasn't he? But you didn't know. He didn't tell you they were twins, did he? You saw Connie, at the gym, where Charles told you Cynthia would be, so you logically thought it was her." Neil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Bobby ignored it and continued. "Then when you found out it was the wrong woman, you . . .you followed Cynthia from the gym, and killed her."  
  
Alex took over, leaning in even more. "You killed Cynthia because you didn't want Charles mad at you for killing the wrong woman, you thought he'd never find out about Connie. . . but he did, and he was mad, wasn't he? He was mad that you killed Connie."  
  
Bobby straightened himself to his full height, looming over Neil. "Yes." Neil said, his voice so low it was barley audible. "He was still mad."   
  
*****  
  
Charles quickly checked his reflection in the hallway mirror before answering the doorbell. The smile he wore fell as he saw who it was on his front step. "Detectives. What else can I do for you?"   
  
"You can turn around and put your hands on behind your back." Alex said, as she grabbed his wrist, wrenching it and turning Charles around in one fluid motion.  
  
"What . . ?" Charles stammered.  
  
"We've talked to Neil." Bobby said, bending slightly to look Charles in the eye. "He's told us everything."   
  
"He's lying . . ." he winced as the handcuffs clicked tight. "I never hired him to kill Cynthia . . ."  
Bobby grabbed him by the shoulder, steering him outside and down the steps. "If you didn't hire him, how is it that you know what he told us?"  
  
Charles stopped suddenly in the middle of the steps, and stared blankly at Bobby. "I want a lawyer." 


End file.
